


Protegere

by VickyVicarious



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Family, Gen, Humor, Light Angst, Major Original Character(s), POV Original Character, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-20
Updated: 2013-09-20
Packaged: 2017-12-27 03:48:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/973952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VickyVicarious/pseuds/VickyVicarious
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alexander is the Hero, the living personification of a hero of the battlefield. One of his more obscure duties is to defeat winter each year in order to usher in spring. But Jack Frost is so very young, just a boy, and Alexander is so tired of killing... </p>
<p>[Family fic with Jack and OC spirit; Guardians make an appearance too]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Protegere

**Author's Note:**

> A few notes for this one. First off, the title is Latin for "to protect." (I'm fairly sure, at least.)
> 
> Second, this fic is a response to a prompt: There's a few myths out there where a hero defeats the spirit of winter every year to force him to release his hold on the world, bringing about spring (though they were never as popular as the 'winter is because the nature goddess is sulking'). It turns out this is actually true - there is a Spirit of Heroics, made from the belief in all the heroes of myth. He's not very powerful anymore, but he still does his jobs - one of which is that every year he tracks down Jack Frost and gives him a whack on the head with his sword.
> 
> Neither of them seem to be taking the whole event seriously, anymore.
> 
> Third: The prompt obviously requires an OC; in fact, he's the main character. Please don't stop reading just because of that. This is actually the first time I've written an OC into any major role in fanfic, and I assure you I developed him as a real character. I'm quite fond of him, actually.
> 
> Fourth: This information will become relevant as you read. Arion is a mythical immortal horse, the fastest on earth in fact, said to be the son of either Poseidon and Demeter, or of Gaea. He belonged to several great heroes of myth - you might recognize Herakles (Hercules). Some sources suggest that he could speak.

Alexander had once been a soldier. He wasn't ever one of _the_ Alexanders, with 'the Great' or 'of' anywhere in their titles – he never had a title at all. He wasn't a pope or a king: just a soldier, his story unsung. But he had been a hero, nonetheless. He had fought and bled for his country, for his people. He had killed for them, and he had protected those innocents he could, whether they were his people or not. His best friend took an arrow to the gut and died holding Alexander's hand. Once, separated from his battalion, he'd carried a wounded boy of seventeen for two days until he found someone to heal him. The boy had been an enemy soldier and cursed weakly at him the whole time, but Alexander was too weary of death to care. He'd never had a son. His wife had died giving birth while he fought in a far-off battle, but this boy's eyes were wet with tears and Alexander could see the years he would lose unfolding before him. So he bandaged him and gave him water and left him with someone who would care for him, and then Alexander sat down under a tree and cried.

That night, the moon spoke. It made an offer.

There was no reason not to accept – all his loved ones were gone, and any loyalty he still had to his country was waning fast under the strain of senseless war. Alexander was determined to do his duty, he was… but he could not bear to blindly kill any more. He wanted to _protect_ , instead. That was all he had ever wanted.

Alexander closed his eyes and gripped his sword with hands that knew nothing but death, and said, "Yes."

* * *

The years pass; some fast, some slow. There is war, there is death. That never changes. But there is love, too, and laughter, and children playing. Alexander cannot always protect them, but he tries, and sometimes he succeeds. There are other foes now, not all of them human. Often Alexander is not enough, but he does his part and knows he makes a difference. In the beginning, he feels unnaturally strong – his shield and armor shine brightly without maintenance and his muscles never tire. Though Alexander had been a foot-soldier in life, he does not walk long once he is the Hero. He comes upon a large black stallion in the woods, saddled in war gear and ready for a rider. The destrier lowers its great head, and meets Alexander's eyes – and he could swear it speaks, though no sound breaks the stillness of the forest.

Arion has been his constant companion ever since. He is fast, faster than any mortal beast could ever be, and knows no fear. He can traverse the world in less than a day, charge into the midst of any battle, and has never left Alexander's side – though he never allows any others to touch him, be they spirit or human. Together, they ride across the earth, defeating evil where they find it, protecting those they can. Even hundreds, thousands of years later, Alexander still does not know the warmth of a peaceful home or the touch of a son, but his death-bringing hands allow other fathers to come home, other sons to live and other daughters to smile – and this makes the Hero content.

The years pass. Arion and Alexander ride, and they fight, and still, the years pass.

* * *

Alexander knows his duty. He has always followed his duty, fighting those he was meant to fight, killing those he was meant to kill. Even now, he fights as the man in the moon made him to fight, kills as his believers know he will. Even now, though the shine of his armor has faded, his sword grown dull: his time has been slowly waning for many years now and he knows it but he will fight to the end. He will _protect_.

But this boy before him is young. So very, very young, and his cheeks are pale like the dead, and his eyes shine almost with tears.

"You – you can _see_ me?" he asks, and Alexander can already see him bleeding into the snow.

"Of course I can see you, Jack Frost," he says, and the boy laughs out loud, dances on the wind in utter _joy_ and oh, surely there are limits to duty.

Alexander dismounts, though, because he must protect, that is all he exists for. Arion huffs, steam expelling from his nostrils, and nudges him with a warm, soft muzzle. His eyes are dark and soft and always supportive. Alexander draws his sword.

"I am here to kill you," he says, and Jack stops laughing. "I must kill you; I must end winter."

"B-but…" Jack grips his staff, uncomprehending.

"Winter must end," Alexander says, knowing explanation is unnecessary. Knowing he is only making excuses. "You represent only death. I must defeat you so that spring can bring forth new life."

"I – _no!_ " Jack understands. Alexander sees the moment of that understanding, the way the boy grips onto his staff and points it in his direction as one betrayed.

The wind turns sharp, cold and against him. Arion whinnies into the air, low and dangerous, but it is just as fierce. Just as angry.

Jack is not angry. Just scared, and hurt, and so very, very, pitifully _young_. Alexander aches, but he will always do his duty, and so he lifts his shield and steps forward.

The years have weakened him terribly, but they have also taught him well. Alexander knows how to fight, how to kill – and it is immediately obvious that Jack Frost has no knowledge of either art. It is only by the grace of the wind that he is not cleaved in two by Alexander's first swing. It tries to pull him away to safety, but no wind could ever outrun Arion.

Jack's ice may be strong, but he is so confused, so scared. It is all over in minutes. Alexander stands above the young winter spirit. He swings his sword down. It bites deep into the wood of Jack's staff, and the boy _screams_ –

The Hero yanks his weapon back, then kicks his opponent's staff out of limp, trembling fingers. He brings his sword to bear at Jack's throat. He hears the boy's breathing, loud in the silence. He is panting. His eyes are wide and blue against the stark white of his hair, the pale of his face.

Alexander stares him in those blue eyes and says, "Move on. It's time for spring."

Then he sheaths his sword and turns. Arion is at his side in an instant, and he leaps upon his steed's back. "Let's ride," Alexander whispers, and they leave the spirit of winter far, far behind in mere moments.

The weight of his duty hangs heavy over him, yet Jack Frost was a child, only a boy and so _unsuspecting_. His hands are stained with centuries of blood but this, this is one thing Alexander will never be able to do.

Arion gallops on, whinnies his approval into the night. Alexander clings close to his warmth, knowing that he will always have this ally. And he cannot help but take comfort in such blind support, because no matter what his duty dictates he feels no regret.

"Winter is necessary too, surely," the Hero murmurs to his steed. "I shall defeat him every year – but there's no need to _kill_ …"

Arion runs faster, ever faster and always warm underneath him, and though not a word is spoken, Alexander understands him perfectly.

_I knew I chose the right man._

* * *

Jack Frost is a clever boy, as sharp as the winter wind that carries him. It doesn't take too long before he starts to figure out what Alexander is doing. His fear fades, replaced by a cocky nonchalance that is nonetheless practiced enough that it aches to see.

"So, who are you, exactly?" he asks, ducking nimbly beneath Alexander's sword. "Why exactly do you have to try and murder me every year? I know with that pony of yours, you _can't_ be normal."

"I'm a myth, just like you," Alexander replies, shield raised to block Jack's ice. He ignores Arion's affronted stomp. "My name is Alexander; I am the Hero. I protect."

"This explains murdering me how!" Jack starts off casual, but his voice raises in surprise and fear as Alexander moves forward suddenly and pins him against a tree.

"Defeating you," Alexander corrects. "Defeating winter to usher in spring. It is one of my duties."

Job accomplished, he turns away. After several steps, he stops. "Arion. Come."

A plaintive whinny.

"No, you may not kick him for calling you a pony. Let us go, there are wars being fought."

A disappointed snort. Arion ambles over resentfully. Alexander pats him on the neck.

Jack Frost leans back against the tree, relaxed now. He watches as Alexander mounts his steed. "You know," the winter spirit says thoughtfully, "you said the first time that you had to kill me."

Alexander sits in silence for a long moment. Finally, he says, "I have always enjoyed making snow forts."

Jack splutters, laughs an astonished laugh, and Arion gallops away.

"...I was not _encouraging_ him," Alexander tells the horse many miles later, as he fights alongside a dark-skinned man in Africa who only wants to save his village. "I do like snow forts. You're just offended because he called you a pony."

He stabs a murderer and beheads a rapist. "No," he says. "I will not stop mentioning that. You're really such a racehorse Arion, honestly."

* * *

The years pass. Arion defeats Jack every year. Sometimes the winter spirit fights back, really puts up a good show. Eventually, though, he gets lazy. One year, he tries to claim that Alexander must defeat him in a snowball fight. After seven losses, the Hero gives up and just whacks Jack Frost on the head with the flat of his sword.

"Take that, you are defeated."

Another year, Alexander vanquishes the death of nature in a game of hopscotch. He's never played before, but Arion is a superb mount, even if he does grumble at the indignity.

"That's, uh..." Jack scratches at his head. "I don't think horses are allowed to play this game?"

"Don't take this away from him," Alexander says. "Really, please, we saw the equestrian Olympics last year and he's got a point to prove."

Other years are less whimsical.

"Why can't you stay?" Jack asks, looking a little sheepish. "I mean – you're always riding off so fast after you defeat me. Couldn't you just… hang around, just for a couple days?"

Alexander can feel the people fighting across the world, dying, screaming and bleeding and crying. They need him badly. But war will never disappear, and something in Jack's eyes will always remind him of that boy he gave up his mortality for, that boy who fought in a battle far too large at far too young an age.

"I cannot stay long," he says, softly. "I have my duties. People will always need a Hero to save them."

"Right, right," Jack says, laughing it off as though the refusal does not wound him. He turns back to his lake, already starting to wave goodbye – but freezes, astonished, when Arion nudges at his back.

Jack turns and, after a moment, reaches out a hand with an expression of awe. Arion suffers the petting on his nose disdainfully, tail flicking up to sharply swat the back of Alexander's neck when he dares to chuckle.

"I can spare just a few days," the Hero tells Jack, and then mutters too quietly for human ears, "What a good pony you are."

He's promptly tossed to the ground and will have to groom Arion for hours later to make amends, but it was worth it. And the destrier does not run away, embarrassed though he is; just allows Jack to keep gently stroking his nose.

Jack helps him build a veritable snow _castle_ , and Alexander claps him on the shoulder before leaving. He returns to the blood and hate and desperation he knows so well, but finds himself already looking forward to next spring.

"We aren't getting soft are we," the Hero murmurs, and Arion snorts at the very idea. Then he tramples a fallen sergeant, just to prove his point.

* * *

Russia, 1941.

For the first time, Alexander runs across Jack without planning to. It isn't Jack's territory this time; it's _his_ and he's struck to his very bones at the sight of the boy's smile.

"Alex! Hey, thought I might run into you here," Jack laughs. Alexander dismounts and punches him in the face.

"Get out of here. Right. _Now_."

Jack has stumbled back, fallen into the snow. He sits up now, a handful of snow clutched to his eye, confused anger on his face. "Hey, what's your problem? Whoa, stop–"

Arion trots forward to block his way as Alexander draws his sword. He tries to shove the stupid animal aside, but it won't budge. "Go away, Frost!" he shouts. "I've defeated you, winter is over, get out of my war!"

Jack stands cautiously, one hand holding his staff out defensively. "Okay, are you seriously that possessive of your battlefields? I mean, come on, it's only November!"

Alexander snarls, and tries to climb _over_ Arion. He's rewarded with a sharp nip to his rear end for the trouble.

Jack's laugh is a little brittle now, a little offended. "Besides, I totally know that you can't come defeat me until the Groundhog tells you to. Yup, I know aaaaaaall about the way you let a rodent boss you around, oh mighty Hero. I mean – come _on_ , I just thought I'd help a friend."

Alexander gives up on getting past his horse, and sheathes his sword. Some of the mad fear has drained out of him at the hurt in Jack's voice. "You don't _belong_ here, Jack. It – It's not your place. People are _dying_. They are bleeding and crying and begging for mercy and they are _killing each other_. This isn't where you belong."

Arion cautiously moves aside, though he watches his rider closely, ready to intervene if necessary. A sharp breeze across his neck alerts Alexander to Jack's other ally, equally ready to protect its companion.

The boy himself frowns. "I know," he says. "I know that people are dying. I just, I wanted to _help_."

" _You can't help!_ " Alexander shouts. Jack jumps, the wind whips harder, and Arion's ears twitch back. But the Hero can't help it, Jack is so very young and – he can feel all the centuries of blood on his hands. He has never had a son, his wife died in childbirth while he fought in a far-off battle but Jack Frost, Jack Frost is like the son he has never known and he will not see this boy on a battlefield. Over two hundred years have passed since they first met but Jack's eyes will never get any older, will never deserve this, this blood and pain and desperation that Alexander lives in.

Arion hangs his head over his rider's shoulder and whuffs in his ear. Alexander reaches up and clings to that familiar warmth. He's terrified. He has never been this scared. But he tries to calm himself, because he can see that Jack truly means well, he just doesn't understand, of course he doesn't he's so _young_.

"Jack, please. Just leave. I don't want to see you here." Alexander takes a deep breath, trying to control himself. "You can send the snow, you can send the blizzards if you really want to help but _please_ –" his voice cracks and the wind soothes against his cheek, and Alexander wants to hug lonely lost Jack and shield him from all the world but his hands are far too bloody ever to do so "–just don't stay here. Go bring some kids a snow day. I know you like those."

Jack hesitates. He seems to realize, slowly, that Alexander's reaction is not born out of any pride or selfishness regarding his duties. He seems to realize, ever so slowly, that Alexander's reaction is born from concern, from caring too much instead of too little – and Jack's pale cheeks pale further.

"Um. Oh-okay," he stutters finally, fingers gripping too tightly against his staff. "I can probably keep this up even if I'm not actually right here."

"Good. Do that." Alexander strains for composure, but his throat feels ragged.

"All right. Uh..." Jack scratches at the back of his head. "So… see you in a couple months?"

The old man who calls himself a Hero nods silently, and watches his surrogate son fly away. He can't seem to breathe right. He can't believe he never realized this before.

Arion whickers softly, affectionately, and allows Alexander to hug at his neck desperately. He does not know what to do. He's never – in all his many, many years, all he has truly known was blood. Death. How can he ever –

But there is one thing the Hero has always known. He knows what people want to protect, he can see it in their hearts and some times, it has been all that has kept him fighting. So few people believe in him now, he is so much weaker than he once was. He won't ever die, not so long as there is war, but though Alexander was only in his forties when he became immortal, he feels the years so strongly now. Still, he sees what people want to protect. He sees their loved ones, their home and country and little boys and girls waiting for their return –

He sees, in his own heart, Jack Frost. Jack Frost, tossing a snowball in one hand, staff in the other, cocky grin and all.

And Alexander smiles. He doesn't know how it's even possible to smile, he is far too drenched in blood for this to ever work. And he won't ever be enough for Jack, not really – he has seen how much that boy longs for believers, for the children he plays with to _see_ him. Alexander has never cared much about having believers, nor even interacting with other spirits. Arion has been all he needed or wanted for companionship, for so many years but – now, oh, _now_.

He is not able to be a father. But he knows, now, irrevocably – Alexander has a son.

And he cannot help but smile. He cannot help but laugh out loud, as the snow piles down around him.

* * *

Winter has lasted long this year, but its time is up now. Alexander smirks to himself, and urges Arion on. He's a little surprised when his steed turns to the north, but he gives him his head, knowing the horse will always find Jack.

They burst into Santoff Claussen in a clatter of hooves, amidst the frantic yelling of many alarmed yetis. Elves scatter jingily before them as Arion rears up fiercely, neighing and rolling his eyes madly.

"Oh, we're putting on a show, are we?" Alexander laughs. "Alright, then."

They slam through the double doors into North's globe room. Arion rears again, dramatically, and Alexander pulls his sword out of its sheath with a metallic _shing_.

He leaps down to the ground. "Frost," he growls. "I'm coming for you."

It is hilarious, the looks on the Guardians' faces. Jack, sitting in the windowsill across the room, blinks in surprise. A moment later, a smirk slides across his face.

"Oh no!" he shouts. "S-stay back!"

The stutter is too much. It's obvious something is off, and the Easter Bunny is actually turning around as if to comment on the overacting, when Alexander clocks him in the face with his shield.

He sends the rabbit tumbling, head over heels. He may have been wanting an excuse to do that for some time now. Of course, there's no chance to savor the moment before North attacks, twin sabers flashing in the air. Alexander parries, a grin creeping onto his face despite himself; it's been too long since he fought another swordsman.

Arion nickers behind him, spins, and kicks the Tooth Fairy right out of the air before she can reach the Hero. A quick glance back assures Alexander that his horse was gentle, and then he neatly twists North's swords right out of his hands and kicks him hard in the gut. The old man doubles over, out of breath. That'll only stop him for a moment, and Bunny is already getting up across the room, but a moment is all Alexander needs.

He makes a run for it. Jack cowers dramatically against the window, shooting poorly aimed blasts of ice at him that Alexander easily bats out of the way with his shield. A whip of golden sand swings at him from across the room, but Arion is there to intercept it with a loud whinny and flashing hooves. Alexander ducks the boomerang aimed at his head, holds his shield up to block the flock of tiny fairies converging on him, and smacks Jack's staff out of his hand.

"Your time has come to an end, Frost," he growls as forebodingly as he can – and then lightly bonks Jack on the head with the flat of his sword. "Winter's over, try to keep it in your staff, would you?"

Jack can't answer, he's too busy laughing. Alexander turns around, sheathing his sword. He smiles. "Hello. I don't know if we've met. My name is Alexander."

They gape at him. Alexander struggles to suppress a snigger of his own. "I'm the Hero," he explains. "Mostly I deal with adults, battlefields and the like… You might not know me. But it's one of my duties, to defeat winter every year so that spring can bring new life."

They gape a little more.

Arion snorts pointedly. "Oh! Um, this is Arion, my noble steed," Alexander says. Said noble steed makes a great show of _prancing_ across the room to nibble affectionately on Jack's hair. It's been too long since he got to show off what a great war-horse he is to anyone but Alexander; this has clearly pleased him greatly.

"You... are Hero?" North finally says, sounding bewildered. "Jack, you know this man?"

Jack nods, shoving at Arion and still laughing hysterically. "S-sure I do. Hahaha, get off you stupid pony – ow, ow, okay, I'm sorry, 'mighty stallion' – hahahaha oh your _faces_ guys, ahahaha… Y-yeah. Yeah, this is Alex. We've been – heheheh – friends for a long time."

There is another long silence. It is eventually broken by Bunny. "What the blazes – Frost, you bloody trickster –"

North drowns him out with a deep, loud belly laugh. "AHAHAHAHAHA!" He claps Bunny hard on the shoulder. "Is good trick! Very good!"

Toothiana flutters down from the ceiling, brushing off her feathers. "I don't think it was very funny; that hurt! …Then again, you do look quite cute, don't you –"

Her attempt to pet Arion nearly ends in her losing three fingers. Alexander snatches her hand away just in time. "Wait! Sorry, Arion doesn't let anyone but me touch him."

Jack jumps lightly off his perch on the window-seat and lands, still giggling, backwards on Arion's back. The destrier snuffles and tries to shake him off. Alexander and Toothiana watch them play for a moment.

"…Jack's an exception, one Arion took over a hundred years to make. I wouldn't get too close."

Tooth nods, thoughtfully. "Uh, right."

But before anyone can get too comfortable, Bunny hops aggressively forward. "Oi! Just who d'you think you are, Mr. 'Hero'. If you're such a hero, where exactly were you when Pitch attacked? Huh?"

Jack quiets, behind him. North stops laughing. Alexander notices Sandy floating a little to the side, making sand pictures over his head. First there's a small silhouette surrounded by the Guardian's silhouettes, and then a large silhouette next to the shape of a man riding a horse.

None of the other Guardians seems to get what he's trying to tell them. They are all eying Alexander suspiciously. In truth, he does understand where they are coming from. He would have liked to be there for Jack this Easter – assuming, of course, that he'd even known what was happening at the time, which he had not. But even if he had known…

"I'm a Hero," Alexander says. All levity is gone from his voice now. "Like I said, mostly of the battlefield. You all protect children, and that's wonderful – but it's not what I do. I help soldiers fight wars. I help _them_ protect their children, their homes."

Sandy nods wisely, but the others don't really seem to get the point. Alexander sighs. "Look. Do you know what usually makes people call someone a hero? It's because they are brave, and they do what's right – even in the face of fear."

Confused nodding all around, except from the Sandman, who throws his hands up in the air and rolls his eyes. Jack has gone very still, watching Alexander as he continues to speak.

"By my very nature, I'm afraid. I can fight against that fear in order to protect people, but fighting fear itself? That's not really for me. Besides, I have very few true believers anymore. The general idea of a hero will always exist as long as there's a battlefield for me to stand on – but I wouldn't be any match for Pitch. If we ever fought seriously, I'm sure Jack could beat me now."

"Aw, Alex –"

"The only reason I managed to get past all of you is because of my long experience, and the advantage of surprise." Alexander shrugs. "I'm not ashamed to admit I'm past my prime. The most I can do is help mortals fight the battles that really need to be fought – so, I could tell you where I was this Easter, if you like. But it will involve a lot of blood."

The Guardians of Childhood all stare at him for a long moment. Sandy, at least, gives him a smile and thumbs-up. He seems wiser than his friends, or at least quicker on the uptake, and Alexander smiles back at him.

Eventually, the others back down; Bunny hops a short distance away, grumbling all the while. Arion trots after to snort at him derisively, though Jack stays behind. Toothiana, now hovering slightly off the ground, smiles a little awkwardly.

"Well, I certainly don't mind some nice blood – but that's on a good lateral incisor, so maybe it's not exactly what you meant." She giggles. "It's very nice to meet you though, Alexander. Alexander, Alexander, so many Alexanders… where do I have your teeth…?"

"I'm pretty old," Alexander warns her. "Ancient Roman days. I doubt you've been around that long, right? It's okay, I'm fine. They weren't very nice teeth anyway."

Toothiana gasps. "How could you say that! There's no such thing! I mean, sure, we can't all be like _Jack_ here –" and the look that she shoots the boy has Alexander raising his eyebrows in mild surprise, "but I'm sure your teeth were just fine!"

"I never really flossed," Alexander tells her, and then turns to North and Sandy while she's busy freaking out about that fact.

He would mention this to everyone, but Arion is engaged in some sort of staring contest with Bunny and Toothiana is lecturing a little group of her faeries about the many, many reasons flossing is absolutely _essential_.

"I'd like to thank you, for accepting Jack into the Guardians. I don't know exactly what happened this Easter – like I said, I was busy in a warzone – but even I heard the word on the grapevine. This… must mean a lot to him. Jack's been alone for so long – I'm so busy that I can only visit this once a year."

Jack reaches out and grabs on to his elbow. "Hey, Alex, quit it –"

"No. I really would like to thank you all." His voice must be getting too loud, Alexander knows that it is because Bunny and Toothiana are looking this way too, now, but he doesn't care. He really _is_ grateful. Angry, too – they had ignored Jack for so long, after all – but grateful, nonetheless. There are so many things he can never give Jack, will never be able to experience with Jack. But the Guardians have given him a place to _belong_ , friends, and even human believers. Alexander cannot help but be grateful for that.

Even so, they deserve a little humiliation. Jack will be pleased to hear it too, so Alexander goes ahead and says it. "I can always see what people want to protect most, in their heart of hearts. My entrance might have been a little rude, but – it allowed me to see something very important." He smiles. "I saw Jack Frost, in all of you. Thank you, for wanting to protect him."

"Of course," North beams, utterly unembarrassed. "Jack is Guardian now. He is family!"

Nods all around, even from a sheepish Bunny, and Jack's eyes have gone wide. His hand falls off Alexander's elbow as he stares wonderingly at North, and for a moment, the Hero feels a twinge of jealousy.

It drives him to say something a little too revealing. "I've long thought of him that way, myself."

And then Jack's wide-eyed gaze is on _him_ , and Alexander can't, he really shouldn't – he has never not fought, even now he can feel the killing cries of his believers, aching for his murderous aid – but he smiles anyway, a gentle smile just for Jack Frost, that boy who has always been so very, very young.

Alexander reaches out and ruffles Jack's snow-white hair. "I'll see you next year," he says, and it's a battle to say next, "kid."

He wanted to say 'son'. But he is the Hero and the Hero always wins in the end and so he just smiles a little wider, then turns to Arion (back at his side before he even thought to ask, because their bond runs deeper even than the oceans of blood they have spilled together) and leaps onto his back.

Alexander spares one last look for the Guardians. "Take care of him," he says, and then Arion wheels around and gallops out of there faster than any other living thing on earth.

They run fast, they run hard, and as the wind rushes against his face, Alexander lets out a single great whoop, something he's normally far too dignified to do. Because he got the last word which he always enjoys, because he got to beat up the most respected spirits in the world, because Arion is the fastest horse there has ever been or will be and he is such a _joy_ to ride, because they will spill some hot blood tonight in defense of all that must be defended.

But mostly because of Jack. Because Jack has friends now, has believers, has a place in life and is not so lonely. Because Jack's smile was so _real_ tonight, his laugh so very loud and unrestrained.

Because as Alexander was leaving, he saw Jack reaching up and gently touching his head, exactly where he'd ruffled the boy's hair, and those blue eyes were welling up with tears.

Alexander laughs into the night wind for the simple joy of someone to call his own, and he rides and he rides.

Spring will come again, and he will defeat winter again, and again and again.

The years will pass.


End file.
